I know you don't want this, Katsa. But I can't help myself. The moment you came barreling into my life I was lost. I'm afraid to tell you what I wish for, for fear you'll... oh, I don't know, throw me into the fire. Or more likely, refuse me. Or worst of all, despise me," he said, his voice breaking and his eyes dropping from her face. His face dropping into his hands. "I love you," he said. "You're more dear to my heart than I ever knew anyone could be. And I've made you cry; and there I'll stop.
Kristin CashoreYou know,โ he said, โI wish you could see this cave.โ โWhatโs it like?โ He paused. โItโs...beautiful, really.โ โTell me.โ And so Po described to Katsa what hid in the blackness of the cave; and outside, the world awaited them.
Kristin CashoreWell then," Roen said briskly, "are you sleeping?" "Yes." "Come now. A mother can tell when her son lies. Are you eating?" "No," Brigan said gravely. "I've not eaten in two months. It's a hunger strike to protest the spring flooding in the south." "Gracious," Roen said, reaching for the fruit bowl. "Have an apple, dear.
Kristin CashoreBut you're better than I am, Katsa. And it doesn't humiliate me. It humbles me. But it doesn't humiliate me.
Kristin CashoreAs she left the room, Po went to Katsa, pulled her up, sat himself in her chair, and drew her into his lap. Shushing her, he rocked her, the two of them holding on to each other as if it were the only thing keeping the world from bursting apart.
Kristin CashoreSomething caught in her throat at this second thanks, when she'd threatened him so brutally. When you're a monster, she thought, you are thanked and praised for not behaving like a monster. She would like to restrain from cruelty and receive no admiration for it.
Kristin CashoreArt glows with faith even in its weakest parts. At every moment, writing is an act of self-confidence โ the sheerest, most determined, most stubborn self-belief. You CAN have faith and doubt at the same time; the most insecure writer on the planet has faith that shines just as bright as her doubt, and she deserves props for that. It might be hidden deep, she might not feel it and you might not see it, but itโs in there, or she wouldnโt be able to write.
Kristin Cashore